


Perils of a Job

by fanfictiongreenirises



Series: Batman Bingo 2020 [11]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt/Comfort, Podfic Available, Police Officer Dick Grayson, Shooting, no beta we typo like mne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-23 01:00:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23269828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanfictiongreenirises/pseuds/fanfictiongreenirises
Summary: “I, uh,” Dick swallowed, throat suddenly very dry, “I was on the phone with my dad when I heard them. In the alley. I thought he’d hung up or the call disconnected or something.”Amy was silent for a moment, before squeezing his shoulder. “Good thing it didn’t,” she said. “Who knows how this might’ve turned out, even with your… side job skills.”Dick huffed, leaning his head against the door of the ambulance when it became too heavy to hold up on his own. “Didn’t want him to hear that, though,” he confessed, the combination of everything making him spill words he normally would not have.In which Bruce is on the phone with Dick while he's on duty.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Amy Rohrbach, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Series: Batman Bingo 2020 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1622032
Comments: 53
Kudos: 875





	Perils of a Job

**Author's Note:**

> For the "Shot" square on my Batman Bingo card!! For the anon on Tumblr who requested it ^~^
> 
> As always, this takes place technically in that time when Amy knew Dick's identity but was captain of the force (aka the time period I've decided to build a farm in), combined with batfam. 
> 
> EDIT bc I forgot to add: this lowkey takes place in the same universe as my fic Grapevine (second in this series), but you don't have to read it to read this. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own DC
> 
> This now has a podfic, read by the amazing PM_reads!!!!

THIS FANFICTION IS HOSTED ON **ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN** , WHERE YOU CAN READ IT FOR **FREE**. IF YOU’RE READING THIS ON A DIFFERENT WEBSITE, IT WAS POSTED THERE **WITHOUT** THE AUTHOR’S CONSENT.

Strictly speaking, Dick probably should’ve had a partner with him, even with something as mundane as parking tickets. But with the BHPD as understaffed as it was, what with the recent arrests of corrupt officers, the only reason he even had a partner on half his shifts was because Amy was now captain.

He parked the car on the side of the road, swinging out with the practised ease of someone utterly bored. He stuck tickets on two vehicles that were well and truly over the time limit, and got back in the cruiser.

Dick’s phone rang, and he glanced at the caller ID before picking up.

“Hey, B,” Dick said, running a hand through his hair. It was getting colder now, but not cold enough to warrant anything beyond the uniform shirt.

“Dick,” Bruce greeted. “Are you busy?”

Dick let out a dramatic sigh. He put his phone in the holder and switched to Bluetooth, navigating down the street on his patrol route.

“Just bored,” he said.

“Bored?” Bruce said in a mildly polite voice.

Dick took it to mean that Bruce had either called for no reason other than to check in on him, or that there was something incredibly pressing (but not Batman related) that he was putting off bringing up.

“I’m on parking ticket duty,” Dick explained. “So far the most exciting thing that’s happened is an old lady yelling at me.”

Bruce huffed a soundless laugh, but otherwise made no further attempt to continue the conversation.

“So, any reason you called?” Dick parked the car again and got out, eyeing the row of cars before him.

There was a moment’s silence before Bruce responded. “Alfred’s birthday is coming up,” he said. “I’m planning on having a dinner with everyone, at the Manor.”

“Course I’ll come,” Dick said easily. “But I hope you’re not planning on cooking.”

A man, at the sight of him, came running towards his parked car at full speed. Dick paused at the car behind his, pretending to take an extra minute to examine it while the man drove off with a screech of wheels.

“B?”

Bruce had paused once more at the sound of the car, but at Dick’s voice, he seemed to snap out of whatever stupor he’d been in. “Catering. From Alfred’s favourite restaurant. I was thinking we have extended friends and family over for lunch, and then just us for dinner.”

“Sounds good,” Dick said cautiously, still unsure of exactly what Bruce was calling him for.

Once, ‘just us’ would’ve literally meant the three of them: Alfred, Bruce, and Dick. It was strange at times to think how their tiny family had expanded.

“I need you to ask Jason,” Bruce said.

There it was. Dick felt a grin spreading across his face, even as he got out once more to go and fine people. “Oh, is that all,” he said.

“Normally, I ask Alfred or Cass to invite him to things,” Bruce admitted.

“Why can’t Cass do it?” Someone had left their car here for well over a day. Dick frowned, noting down the license plate even as he placed a ticket on the windshield.

That was when he heard the commotion.

Bruce was saying something in his ear, but a lifetime of practise as both Robin and Nightwing let him easily block out the sound as he ran towards the shouting.

In a dark alleyway, there stood a group of three men. The one with the mohawk was clearly the intermediary, but a weak one at that, pushing pitifully at the chests of the other two as they shouted. His actions went entirely unacknowledged. The fact that one of them was waving a gun around didn’t seem to faze either of the others.

“Hey, guys,” Dick said, a distance away. “There a problem?”

Right away, the one with a gun aimed it at him, and Dick put his arms up.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said. “We can do this without the firearms. Put the gun down, and let’s talk through this. Okay?”

The Bluetooth piece had gone completely silent. Dick hoped Bruce had hung up or that the call had ended; he didn’t want him hearing this. Bruce was rigid enough in his opinions of Dick becoming a police officer as it was.

But the man – Spiked Leather Jacket #1, Dick was calling him – was shaking his head in a clearly deranged manner. His gun hand shook violently. Mohawk guy was trying to pull Leather Jacket #2 away, but he was standing his ground, shrugging him off.

“Nah, man, no way,” #1 said. “You don’t know what this piece of shit’s _done_. You should fucking arrest him!”

“Why don’t you tell me?” Dick said. He took another step towards them.

“Don’t come any closer!” The second guy, quicker than Dick had thought possible, given the pot belly, lunged around Mohawk and grabbed something, but Mohawk backed against the dumpster in an attempt to dislodge him.

Dick could sense the situation escalating. In the few seconds that it took him to radio in and ask for backup – or someone to come and pick up this lot once he was done arresting them – Mohawk had somehow been convinced to hand over whatever he had hidden under his jacket.

“Look, I’ve got backup coming,” Dick said, hands outstretched to about mid torso, displaying his lack of weaponry. “I have no grounds under which to arrest you, so let’s keep it that way, okay? Let’s put the guns down, and we can talk through—”

Dick was off his game today; he’d been keeping an eye on the wrong person. _Mohawk_ had just fired three shots in rapid succession with a firearm Dick hadn’t even _noticed_. The first one he managed to dodge, but the second hit him in the stomach and the third he could feel burning through his arm.

The Kevlar vest he was wearing ensured that the bullet to his torso didn’t even touch his skin, but he had the wind knocked out of him as he was thrown back by the force of the bullets.

Dick wheezed against the wall he’d stumbled back into, trying to catch his breath. He could hear them yelling once again, but there was a ringing in his ear that prevented him from hearing what they were saying.

And then he realised that the ringing was actually sirens. Backup had arrived, in the nick of time, before they could escape.

Dick frowned, struggling to his feet. BHPD response time – even for a cop – was never this fast.

Two officers rushed down the alley after them, and a third walked over to him.

“Amy,” Dick said, managing a grin. “Nice timing.”

“I swear, rookie,” Amy said, leading him out of the alleyway, “only you would find trouble on ticket duty the one day your partner’s off sick.”

The grey spots in Dick’s vision were growing exponentially with every step he took. He stumbled a little, and Amy’s grip tightened.

“Believe me, I didn’t plan on today being so exciting, either.” There was an ambulance here as well. Dick frowned in confusion.

“If that isn’t true now, it sure as hell will be once you see the amount of paperwork you and I are both going to have,” Amy told him. Her words were softened by the sharpness in her eyes as she led him over to the paramedics.

“How’d all this…” Dick slumped down on a gurney and one of the medics ripped off his sleeve.

“We got a call right around when you radio-ed it in,” Amy said. “Anonymous tip that sounded _very_ sure that we needed to be here with an ambulance ready. Threatened us if we weren’t there _yesterday_.”

Dick’s face, even through the haze of blood loss and now whatever they were pumping into him, must’ve changed, because Amy looked at him questioningly.

“I, uh,” Dick swallowed, throat suddenly very dry, “I was on the phone with my dad when I heard them. In the alley. I thought he’d hung up or the call disconnected or something.”

Amy was silent for a moment, before squeezing his shoulder. “Good thing it didn’t,” she said. “I hate to say it, but the precinct isn't what it could be, even now. And who knows how this might’ve turned out, even with your… side skills.”

Dick huffed, leaning his head against the door of the ambulance when it became too heavy to hold up on his own. “Didn’t want him to hear that, though,” he confessed, the combination of everything making him spill words he normally would not have.

Amy’s gaze was sympathetic. “The reality is never easy,” she said, “but with how fast he reacted, I’m sure your father will be fine.” Someone called her from the side, and she gave Dick a tight smile and nod before walking over.

Dick sat there listening to the chatter between the paramedics as they stitched him up. The bullet had apparently gone straight through – a very lucky shot, according to the medic – and though he’d have rather extensive bruising on his torso, he was fine to go once they’d finished with the bandages.

“Dick?”

Bruce’s voice.

Dick’s eyes snapped open; he hadn’t noticed they’d closed in the first place.

“Holy shit,” he heard one of the medics behind him say.

“B.” Dick tried for a smile, if only to wipe off the look on Bruce’s face.

Bruce barely even glanced at his face, eyes going directly to the newly wrapped upper arm and the display of bruising on his midriff. He reached out, as though to check them over himself, but didn’t make contact.

Dick didn’t comment on the slight tremor in Bruce’s hands.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Right, guys?”

One of the paramedics popped her head out of some inner cabinet in the ambulance, flashing a big smile. “Yup, you’re great! Just keep the stitches dry, and no lifting heavy things for at least three weeks. And…” She reached farther into the back, “ _this!”_

In her hands was a sling. Dick’s smile faded.

“Uh, no thanks,” he said, trying to push himself up. Bruce’s hand on his other shoulder, gentle but firm, stopped him. He glared up at Bruce, but Bruce still wouldn’t look at him. “I’ll be fine without it.”

“He’ll have the sling,” Bruce told the medic.

The medic huffed a laugh, crouching down beside Dick. “You can take it off after a week, but I’d recommend for two, just to remind yourself what you can and can’t do,” she said.

“Thank you,” Bruce said, which Dick echoed.

“I can go now?” Dick asked.

Before the medic could nod, Amy showed up next to him. “Kid, you’re off for a week,” she told him. “And if you decide to come back after that week, you’re on desk duty for another.”

“With incentive like that, it’s a wonder we don’t have more cops,” Dick said.

She didn’t respond, instead looking to where Bruce was talking to the medic. “ _That’s_ your dad?” she asked.

Dick glanced at him. “Yeah,” he said.

Amy whistled, but didn’t comment. Dick didn’t have to wonder to have an inkling about what was going through Amy’s head at the thought of Bruce Wayne not only being the proactive anonymous caller, but also his father.

“I gotta dash,” Amy was saying. “Go home, Grayson. Get some sleep.”

Bruce was silent on the drive to Dick’s apartment. Dick normally would’ve tried making conversation, but today he could barely keep his eyes open. He knew, though, that when he woke up, the numbness in his whole upper body would fade and he’d have to actually deal with the pain.

Dick woke from his doze when Bruce parked the car in the visitor’s parking. He brought his hand up and rubbed at his eyes.

“I’m sorry—” he cleared his throat, “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

Bruce’s head snapped towards him, face stony. “If I hadn’t been on the phone with you, they might not have left the _precinct_ yet,” he growled.

Bruce exited the car, door slamming shut. Dick exhaled, but before could open his door, Bruce was there opening it for him.

Dick swung his legs round, before realising he was still strapped in. Fumbling, he undid the seatbelt and then climbed out.

The ride in the elevator was quiet, the two of them upright and facing forward in silence.

When it got to Dick’s floor, he glanced to Bruce. “The BDPD isn’t _that_ bad, y’know,” he said. “Not now that Amy’s captain. The response rate isn’t great, nowhere near great, but it’s a lot better than it was when I first joined.”

Bruce didn’t say anything.

Dick unlocked the door, unloading his pockets of their contents onto an empty space on the kitchen countertop. Bruce stood there awkwardly, now that he’d taken off his shoes. Dick took that to mean he was planning on staying.

“I _am_ sort of grateful you called it in, though. Even though I’d radioed for backup already,” he said, moving into the bedroom to take off his work clothes. Another shirt he was going to have to replace, he thought mournfully. “Amy says you apparently threatened them?”

Bruce grunted. “They weren’t taking me seriously enough,” he said.

When Dick emerged out of the bedroom, he was sitting on the couch, posture perfectly straight. The TV wasn’t even turned on.

Dick tossed him the remote, sucking in a breath when he bent down. Bruce caught it without even looking; his gaze was on Dick’s torso. Dick planned on ignoring the elephant in the room for as long as he could get away with it; he was much too worn out from both pain and pain meds to defend his career choices for the umpteenth time.

He sat down beside Bruce, shifting around for a position that didn’t put pressure on his injuries. Bruce passed him a pillow, which he tucked behind him.

The TV was playing some sort of nature documentary, David Attenborough narrating with his soothing voice; these sorts of programmes made Dick instantly tired, because of his long association with them and being benched. His head was temporarily stuffed full of information about panthers to hold any other thoughts.

Dick was ready to doze off.

Evidently, Bruce wasn’t the same. He was going through some sort of breathing exercise, and his hands were pressed tightly between his thighs.

“B?” Dick asked, trying to force back a yawn. “Everything okay?”

Instead of replying, Bruce stood up and walked over to the kitchen sink. As Dick watched, he grabbed a glass and filled it up, drinking the water in one go, with massive gulps that could be heard from over the noise of nature sounds.

Dick didn’t know what to do. Obviously, this had something to do with the events of the day; he was enough of a detective to be able to piece that together.

“I think I should go,” Bruce said when he’d sat down beside Dick again.

Dick shifted his eyes to Bruce, who was looked ahead at the television screen. He pushed himself upright on the couch, trying to get into a position to properly have this conversation.

“I’d like it if you stayed,” he said. “For a little while, at least.”

Bruce turned at his words: it wasn’t like Dick to state something like that outright. “If you need me, I’m here.”

But Dick could already see Bruce calculating the hours until he would have to go out on patrol, the time it would take to get from here to the Manor, and then to Gotham streets. And he immediately regretted asking Bruce to stay – what could he even say, here? _I just want to talk for five minutes; you can go after that_.

“Are you…okay?” Dick asked cautiously.

“I’m fine,” Bruce replied shortly, with a pointed stare as he finally faced Dick for what was possibly the first time that day. _I’m not the one who was shot three times_.

“I don’t want to fight,” Dick said. “But I don’t want to defend my career choices and chalk it up to a bad day or whatever every time something like this happens. Because it’s—”

“Dick,” Bruce interrupted, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I told you that I’d do my best to—to live with this, and I am. Still trying.” He exhaled deeply, throat working as he swallowed.

“I know I’ve said this before, but I _am_ sorry you had to hear it happen,” Dick said, with a sympathetic grimace. “I know how you feel about guns. It can’t have been…”

“I’d rather have been on the phone with you, knowing that something had happened and being able to do something about it, than get a call telling me that backup had been too late and you were dead.” Bruce’s mouth was a thin hard line on his face.

Dick sighed. “That’s… I don’t know what to say to that, if I’m being honest.” Because this was just a hazard of the job. “Please don’t call me every five minutes whenever I have a shift.” At the look on Bruce’s face, he tried for a smile. “Too soon?”

Bruce grunted, and the conversation between them dissolved once more.

Dick tried to think of what he would want, if he’d just witnessed almost the same thing that had happened to his parents happen to someone he cared about, while he was on the phone with them and thirty minutes away. If he were honest, he probably wouldn’t get over it anytime soon.

He’d want a hug, for starters. A decade ago, he would’ve hugged Bruce at least five times by now, no fanfare needed. He wished, sometimes, that their relationship could go back to how easy it’d been, in those earliest days.

Instead of a hug that would make Bruce tense up, he leaned sideways until he was using Bruce’s shoulder as a pillow. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but Bruce immediately shifted so it’d be at a better height, which made Dick smile.

“I’m going to take a nap real quick,” he said with a stifled yawn. “When I asked you to stay, I didn’t mean the whole day or anything. Just wanted to talk. You seemed broodier than usual.”

Dick could feel Bruce’s hum of acknowledgement reverberate through his body, vibrating under Dick’s cheek. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he was lying sideways on the couch, a pillow under his head and a blanket drawn over him. On the coffee table before him was a sandwich enveloped in cling wrap, Tylenol and a bottle of water beside it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Go check out the podfic of this by PM_reads!!!
> 
> My bingo card is linked in the series description if anyone wants to request a square =D and feel free to come chat on [Tumblr](https://fanfictiongreenirises.tumblr.com/)!!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * A [Restricted Work] by [PM_reads (PrincessMariana)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessMariana/pseuds/PM_reads) Log in to view. 




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